


Soothing

by MissRachelThalberg



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5543993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissRachelThalberg/pseuds/MissRachelThalberg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot, set just post-Jabba during Return of the Jedi. Han and Leia each have some issues to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soothing

By the time they made it back aboard the Falcon, she noticed Han was shaking again and, from what he had _not_ said, she knew his eyesight hadn’t returned yet, either.

With a lack of explanation _some_ might call characteristic of her, Leia took him by the arm and led him to the back of the ship, exchanging a brief glance with Chewie. He nodded, and she had to admit, by this point, that perhaps “walking carpet” had been a little too harsh an assessment of the Wookie.

Han, of course, protested her treatment of him, all the while leaning heavily on her skinny, five-foot-nothing frame. She smiled to herself and didn’t slow down for one second.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Really. I don’t need to –“

At that point, he slammed face-first into the wall, and she audibly clacked her tongue as she steered him into the captain’s bunk.

“Yeah, you don’t need to. Lie down and give me a moment.”

Leia shoved him onto the bed with, perhaps, more force than strictly necessary, then opened a door at random and – in luck – groped through a pile of clothes of questionable cleanliness.

“What’re you doing?”

She didn’t say a word as she stepped out of the bikini – the _nerve_ of that monster – and pulled a very Han shirt over her shoulders. The trousers were much, much too big, but the purple skirt of her bikini, ripped viciously and quickly, made a serviceable belt.

“You stealin’ my clothes?”

He sat up in bed, visibly dizzy and looking rather more laser-brained than usual, and reached out to her. She ducked too late, and she knew he realised as soon as his fingers touched the fabric.

“What the hell were you wearing earlier? I could feel –“

He felt – and probably, Leia sniffed, smelt – his own shirt on her and frowned, pushing his legs over the edge of the bed again.

“Why’re you wearin’ my clothes? Leia, what the hell did Jabba –“

She didn’t speak, but kicked the bikini top toward him. She figured he knew enough about female anatomy to catch on quickly, and she wasn’t wrong.

Han Solo, sick and shaking and blind, cursed quietly and furiously in a number of languages she knew, and several she didn’t.

“The fucking monster. That fucking – I’ll kill him.”

She gently pushed him back down and chuckled, quietly and humourlessly, to herself. He wouldn’t notice; she wouldn’t want him to.

“It’s done. Forget him.”

“You?”

“Yeah. With my chain.”

Only then, he relaxed – somewhat – and closed his eyes.

“’Course you did. Well done.”

She knew she loved him then, because he would always want to look after her and yet respect her more for making that unnecessary.

His breathing was growing heavier, and she knew he was exhausted. Leia combed her hands through his hair to coax him to sleep, but he hadn’t finished.

“Leia, did he –“

“It wasn’t the best time I ever had, if that’s what you’re asking.”

His fists balled.

“Will you – uh - ”

She sighed as his sightless eyes looked up at the ceiling again, surprisingly helpless, but willing to make the effort. Leia wasn’t sure what he was asking, and she wasn’t sure if he was sure, himself.

“Han, I’m twenty-one. I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen. I’ve been captured five times. Tortured, thrice. I saw my mother, my father, my planet explode in front of my eyes, and it was _my fault_.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Does it matter?”

He didn’t respond. She loved him for that, too.

“Sure, maybe I’ll scream at night because of what Jabba did to me. But you see – I’ve been screaming at night for the past three years.”

Leia hesitated, stroking his hair more slowly now, evening out his breathing, soothing him to keep him from soothing her.

“I won’t be the same, but I will be okay. It’s what I do.”

***

He woke up nine hours later, rested and able to see.

Clad in his very own smuggler finery, a fast-asleep Leia was by his side still.

She didn’t scream that night.


End file.
